I had taken a hit on the noggin, but otherwise I was no worse off than I had been before. Resan had jumped on me at the last second, shielding me from the crashing ceiling.
I rolled over to look on my opposite side. Once the room stopped rocking, I saw that Resan lay there, looking up at me. His face was masked with blood. For that matter, most of him was covered in blood.
He scowled up at me. “Of all the last views of this life I could have had, your face was at the bottom of the list.”
“You’re a hell of a beauty yourself,” I tossed back, but I wasn’t feeling the usual rancor. Resan was hurt bad. Really bad. “What’s the story?”
“I can’t feel my legs.” Stated in a flat, uncaring tone.
“Fuck.” I looked him over. “You’re bleeding like a stuck pig too. Let me see if Oses is still in range.”
I yanked my com off my belt, where it had mercifully remained during this last onslaught. I clicked the frequency. “Come on, Oses. Talk to me,” I muttered.
“You heard what he said before. He couldn’t spare anyone to rescue us before. He sure as hell can’t now. Do you hear that alarm going off?”
I did hear it, a distant claxon repeating a pattern I’d heard once before. “We’ve been boarded,” I said.
Resan sighed. “No one is coming. And I think I’m going into shock.”
I looked into his eyes. They were dilated and his breathing was rapid and irregular. “Shit. What can I do?” I asked.
“Be quiet so I don’t have to listen to you whine for a change. Let me die in peace.” He blinked and shook his head a little, as if clearing cobwebs from his brain. “Find the first aid kit. There is stimulant in it that will help ward off shock.”
He was right. I’d noted it when we’d inventoried our supplies. Since I felt a little dizzy, I elected to crawl over to where I’d last seen the survival case. It was still there, buried under a bunch of trash. I hurried to uncover it and dragged it over to Resan.
He snatched the first aid kit out of my hands and pawed through the contents. He took two of the stim tabs. I shook out the blanket and covered him with it. I made a mental note that if I got out of this mess alive, I needed emergency first aid training added to my repertoire.
“What else?” I asked.
“Shut up and leave me alone.”
I stood up, ignoring the wave of faintness that made my sight go dark for a moment. I looked around the heaped rubble for something safe to elevate his head, to do anything to keep alive the sorry son of a bitch who’d probably saved my life. “Even on the way out, you are such a—”
I broke off, seeing the door. I hadn’t been able to view it while on my hands and knees, but now I was on my feet, able to look over mounds of rubble. The doorway was still in the shape of an hourglass, but it had shifted, widening at the bottom. Better yet, the door itself had slid over halfway back into the wall. It would be a hell of a squeeze, but I thought I might be able to get out.
“Don’t pack it in quite yet. I think I can get out of the room,” I said. “The door is partially open.”
“Even with the frame bent so badly?”
“It shifted too.” I started to pick my way towards it and reconsidered. I hurt like hell, full blown pain. It made me awkward since nothing wanted to move right. I stooped down to the first aid kit again and grabbed some pain tabs. I dissolved two on my tongue. Resan watched, but he didn’t say anything.
I stood again, not waiting for the meds to take effect. I’d be good to run a marathon in a couple of minutes, but Resan might not have a couple of extra minutes. It was time to move.
I stepped through the wreckage as carefully as I could. It wasn’t easy since my balance kept shifting on me. Fortunately, the ceiling parts weren’t as sharp as the lighting panel fragments. It was still a dangerous proposition to make my way to the door. Worse still, the lighting panel pieces were uncovered in places, and I had to watch my step to avoid accidentally slicing my feet open.
I got to the door. Yes, I was sure I could get through if I moved some newly fallen debris out of the way. I worked to do that.
“Still awake?” I called to Resan.
“Yes. How does it look for your escape?”
“It will be tight, but I think I’ll fit. I’m going to sure as hell try. Want me to pick you up anything while I’m out?”
His tone was forbidding at my brief attempt at humor. So terribly Resan. “You’re not funny. If you can leave, then do so.”
I tossed the last bit of rubbish out of the way. “Try not to die. No one will believe I didn’t kill you.”
“The day you can take me out, even with my legs not working, I deserve to die.”
“Now that’s a goal you should have given me at the start of my training. I’m going.”
“Good. Do you have your knife, stupid girl? It would be just like you to go out unarmed and immediately run into whatever has boarded the ship.”
I knew I had my blade because I’d already checked. Since Resan was a master of shattering my confidence, I checked my belt anyway. “Thanks for wishing me luck, dickhead.”
With that, I dropped to my knees. The pain relief tabs had worked their magic, leaving me with only a twinge or two as I snuggled my belly to the floor. Pushing with my toes and pulling with my fingertips, I crept through the small opening to the corridor beyond.
As I got my first look at the world beyond the training room, I bit my lips together. The corridor wasn’t quite as shattered as where I’d been trapped for so long, but it was a mess. Lighting panels and bits of the ceiling had fallen here and there, making it as hazardous a place as where I’d come from. I was damned lucky the area around the door was still intact. I ignored the obstacle course I’d have to navigate for the moment, concentrating on getting through the doorway.
I thought I was in trouble when my ass proved to be a bit bigger than I thought it was. With visions of being found later by rescuers, ignominiously pinned in place because of my tuckus and Resan dead because of my rump, I dug my elbows into the floor and heaved mightily to get through. I lost my shorts and panties on the way through, but I got out. Hooray.
As I grabbed my clothes, I took the opportunity to yell to Resan. “I’m out.”
“Can you get to another part of the ship?”
“I’m not sure. It’s a mess out here, but I’ll do my best.”
I didn’t wait for a reply. It was not the time to chatter, not if Resan was going to live to make me miserable again. I pulled my panties and shorts back on, glad there was no one around to see me with my stuff out and about.
Butt covered, I stood up. I had to wait again for my surroundings to stop swaying before I was able to take a good look around. The ship’s alarms were louder out here. They sounded in the distance in the direction I would take to get to Medical. Last I had heard, that area was still functioning. The claxons gave me hope it had come through this last attack more or less intact. Resan’s life depended on that being true. I set off.
It was slow going. The section of the ship where training and practice rooms were located was wrecked. There were stretches where the lights were completely out, leaving me in dim pools where I could barely see my hands in front of my face. This was a big problem as I had to navigate around, through, and over heaps of debris, some of it as dangerous as what I’d dealt with in the training room. I was forced to crawl a couple of times in tight places. Darn if I didn’t snag my shorts, nearly losing them a second time. I ended up with plenty of scratches, some of which bled quite a bit. My balance did not want to straighten out. I had no choice but to keep going.
The armory office was the signal that I’d reached the end of this particular section. Up ahead was the physical rehab section. The passage between the two areas was nearly blocked off, but I saw I had enough room to walk through. I’d be able to keep my shorts on this time. Yippee.
First, I stepped into the armory. Almost every section has one, a measure for just such a situation as t
he one the transport found itself in now. If the ship was boarded by an enemy, the crew and any soldiers they were transporting would be able to get their hands on plenty of firepower and ammo no matter where they were. I was amazed to see this one had escaped most of the damage prevalent in the rest of the section.
Between my jaunt in physical rehab and then training with Oses, Resan, and Idow, I was familiar with the armory officers who worked this particular station. I knew the guys’ shifts almost as well as Oses’s by now. My best guess at how much time had elapsed made me think it was either morning or afternoon shift. As I walked into the front part known as Acquisition and Surrender, I called out, “Second Subcommander Amot?”
I wasn’t surprised to not get an answer. No doubt Nobek Amot was off fighting whoever or whatever had gotten on board the ship. The training section had been utterly deserted as far as I had been able to note. I wondered how many trapped people I’d passed in closed-off rooms as I made my way through the maze of wreckage. I wondered how many were dead. The thought occurred to me that some of the piles of debris I’d climbed over might have lay on top of people I knew. The thought was chilling.
I didn’t have time to consider it though. I jumped up on the counter that Amot would have normally been standing behind, checking weapons in and out as needed. He wasn’t lying dead behind it. He wasn’t in the back room either, where rows upon rows of weapons and ammo were stored.
Amot being missing gave me some hope for escape. He was too big to have gone in the direction I’d come from. No way he’d have evacuated through those heaps of debris where I’d almost been too big to fit through. He must have found some way to get to Medical. But had that been early on, after the first attack? Or later, after the second or third? I had to hope for later, that the way out he’d gotten out was not blocked.
I considered snagging a percussion blaster and thought better of it. Medical was classified a must-guard area, so there would be a bunch of warriors protecting it with invaders on board. If I burst into the section, they might see the blaster first and fire before noting who held it. I actually have more faith in my friendly neighborhood Nobeks than that, but why take chances? They were on high alert, and stupid shit happens when bad stuff is going down.
I was heading to where I would be among friends. So I jumped over the counter again and went back to the corridor.
August 28
In the corridor again, I headed for the twisted remains of walls and ceilings. I stepped into the physical rehab area.
It’s divided into two parts: on my left were the doors that led to the therapists’ shared office, power routing, and half a dozen small, private rehab rooms where most patients begin their recoveries. On the right is one monstrous room filled with exercise machines, monitors, and diagnostic devices.
As soon as I got in that section, I saw that the corridor was impassable. It looked like there had been a massive cave-in between me and the main Medical section. The pieces of ceiling making up the blockage were huge.
I didn’t lose hope right away. I knew the big rehab center had a door that opened on the far end of the corridor, steps away from Medical’s door. I couldn’t see it down the hall because the collapse had happened about midway.
Heart hammering with hope, I ran into the big room. It had taken a fair amount of damage. Okay, a lot of damage. It was still better off than the training section, and I hurried to the closed door on the far end of the room chanting, “It will open, it will open, it will open.”
It did not open. The automatic mechanism didn’t engage with its recognizable hiss.
My spirits already flagging, I commanded, “Door open.” Nothing. I pushed the manual button. Nothing. I punched the manual button, knowing I was going to get absolutely nothing for my efforts.
I hammered at the door. Just around the corner, mere yards away, was the Medical department. I could hear the alarms still wailing their piercing warning on the other side of the door. I yelled, knowing damned well no one was going to hear me over the claxons.
I was so damned close to help. It was enough to make me cry in frustration.
I didn’t cry. Resan didn’t have time for that. The man had saved my life, and it was my turn to save his if I could. I had to find a way to get through.
I ran back out to the corridor, hoping against hope that what had appeared to be an impenetrable barrier would have some little place a Shalia could get through. I was still steps away from it when I saw there was no chance of that. It was a wall of ceiling, ductwork, and the ever-sharp daggers of busted lighting panels.
“Fuck!” I screamed in impotent rage at the pile. “Fuck!”
I went back to the physical rehab room. I needed something to break through the wall or door with. Something big. Something heavy.
I was looking at the carnage of the room, trying to see what would serve as a battering ram. Then I heard a new sound, one I’d heard numerous times on Earth.
The government facilities I’d been employed at were always either building new structures or upgrading the ones they had. The sounds of construction were as recognizable to me as the vid-recorders I’d handled at work. Government loves to spend money on anything it can, and site improvements were always a big chunk of the budgets.
I knew the sound of a laser torch slicing through metal. At first I turned to look at the unresponsive door, thinking Oses or some of his men were finally coming through to get me and Resan out of here.
But no. The sound was coming from the opposite wall, one that had no door ... because on the other side of that wall was the outside of the ship.
As the first red glowing spot appeared, I approached the wall. In a low voice I said, “Exterior vid on.”
The one thing I’d enjoyed about rehab was the hull vids that showed the space we traveled through in all its magnificence. It was a nice distraction to have when my body was begging me to stop exercising or Resan sneered at my weakness. Whether I got to look at a planet, a blanket of stars, or one of our destroyer escorts, it made me appreciate the grandeur of the universe that I was such a very small part of.
I saw nothing of space. Instead, the vid filled with a vessel that looked like some cobbled together child’s version of a shuttle. A big umbilical tunnel extended from that monstrosity. It had attached to our hull. And Tragooms. I saw Tragooms within the tunnel passageway less than two feet away from me. One worked a laser cutter, tearing its way into the transport.
I stood for what felt like an hour, my brain slamming to a stop as I stared at what was coming for me. With that laser, the Tragooms wouldn’t be stuck like I was. They could break through to Medical where no doubt the injured and dying were piling up. Or they could perhaps find a way back to training, where Resan lay dying.
Fuck. I could hide and maybe stay safe, but the shit was about to hit the fan one way or the other.
Fear gave way to anger. I stared at the Tragooms on the other side of the wall, which was steadily being cut through. Within the umbilical passage were three of the big ugly pig-faced monstrosities. Their shuttle stretched beyond the reaches of the vid screen. There might be a few dozen of them coming through.
My mind had come to an absolute halt when I’d first seen the enemy. Now it seemed to run at light speed, running through options, playing out scenarios, tallying up the risks of any action I might take. No matter how I looked at it, every alternative carried a high level of suckage.
So I chose the one that would make the Tragooms as miserable as possible.
They were halfway through cutting a hole in the wall when I headed back to the armory. I locked myself in the back room.
I made myself take time to choose the best weapons for me. I was trained with a percussion blaster, so I went for that first, making sure it was fully charged and ready to fire. I also found a holster to attach to my belt, so I grabbed another blaster. One for the hand, one for in case. I set them both for rapid fire, maximum spray. I wasn’t playing target practice with my foes.
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I had my knife. If I had to go up against more than one or two Tragooms at a time, it wasn’t going to do me much good. I still was glad to have it. It comforted me for some reason.
I heard a crash. I figured it was the Tragooms coming through the hole they’d made in physical rehab. I was nearly out of time.
Back some months ago, we Earthers had been trained specifically to use blasters. We’d also been allowed to learn a little about other weapons, like laser rifles. Those are precision instruments, more for sniper attacks than all-out battles.
Instead of a laser rifle, I snagged what we Earthers referred to as an ‘egg shooter’. It looked similar to our guns back home that fired grenades at enemies. Kalquorian ‘grenades’ were much smaller, more the size of robins’ eggs. They still exploded, a deadly bit of business if they went off within a couple of feet of the enemy. Tragooms’ hides were thick enough to withstand a lot of damage, but a blast from an egg shooter would take them down all right. I loaded up mine with a full magazine and slung it by the strap over my shoulder.
Shalia's Diary #7 Page 36
